a dream is a wish the heart makes
by starlee
Summary: ALORA: she is always falling.


**MASSIVE AUTHORS NOTES ALERT: **

You know, I always wondered what happened to Alice after Xehanort's Heartless popped his clogs. Did she return to Wonderland? Did she go back where she left her sister and her cat, Dinah?

Personally, I decided that she would return to Wonderland (even though, now that i think about it, it would make more sense if she didn't) because I wanted her to be for the sake of this story. And I reasoned that because she never really finished the trial, she had been kidnapped in Wonderland, and should therefore return there. …hang on, Alice was dreaming, so how did Sora and co. get to Wonderland, anyway?

…that's messed up.

Actually, now that I think about it more, I suddenly really really want to make one where she returns to her real world and starts thinking it was all a dream, or something… maybe this could become a two-shot?

… Hm, maybe.

Hey! You know, you're probably wondering why such a loyal Sokai supporter is writing an Alora. Here's the deal: I started my Art exam not too long ago, and the theme was all choose a book, film, song, etc, etc… Alice in Wonderland was a suggestion (you know, cause of the new film coming out? (Can't want to see that, by the way~ xD)) so I was like, yeah, why not? And then somewhere along the way KH/AIW comes to mind and then this really awesomely cute picture that I will never in a million years be able to draw (kinda defeats purposes, much?) comes to mind, and I was like, _KAWAIIII!_

Of course, it was Sora and Alice.

Of course, I tried to turn Alice into Kairi. Guess what? It didn't work. So I was thinking 'oh, shit, what now?' and then – _onesided Alora! :o_

Hey, why not?

_

* * *

_

_Don't worry. I'll watch over you._

It had been a couple of hours since she'd said that.

Alice thinks to herself how she really should have thought first before doing so. He looks pretty enough to entertain her gaze for some time (she'd noticed that instantly, upon their first meeting when his bright eyes had met hers, including the absurdly spiky hair which she'd passed some good fun minutes flicking), but even the most beautiful of boys couldn't capture the eye for 120 minutes. She should have brought something – a book, perhaps, but then again, where from? Ever since she tumbled down into Wonderland, it was the occupants and the strange happenings that had kept her busy. Alice giggles at how silly it all was. She is in Wonderland, and she is bored.

She'd figured out a while ago how to use her Light to keep the dark creatures that seemed so intent on hurting this boy at bay. And now it was under this fierce protection that he sleeps. It is the least she could have done, exhausted as he had been. Does she regret it? She doesn't think so. It kind of makes her blush to think of how close he is.

She wonders what had happened to the duck and the dog that had been with him that other time. Was he alone here? Lost, just as she was? Was he supposed to be here at all? Being the Keyblade Master had to be a busy job, and yet, here he was; curled up and sound asleep, on a meadow in Wonderland, his crazy head of chocolate hair resting on her thigh (she was still telling herself she'd only offered this as a more comfortable pillow).

What now?

Alice flicks a disinterested glance at the Shadow that had just taken one step too far and leapt back with a high-pitched shriek, inky black smoke curling from the place it had just imploded. She'd been shocked and repulsed at first, bile rising in her throat (so sweet and innocent was she, it horrified her to think she was causing pain to even the vilest of beings) but after a while, it just got old. And she got used to it.

After all, she didn't want him to die. She refused to retreat her Light. She'd be damned if one dirty claw violated the pale smoothness of his skin.

Alice feels her cheeks grow hot as she thinks of him (not as if it were the first time). She lets her eyes wander to his serene face, thinking how she would never have thought a saviour of the worlds, a hero, could look so undisturbed. Absently, she brushes a strand of non-existent hair from his eyes, realises what she is doing, and lifts her frail hand away – pauses. For a while she just stares down at him.

An unfamiliar feeling swells within her as her thoughts blur together, thoughts of him, of what he had done, of what he was to her, to everything. Thoughts of past and present and, inescapably, the future. Alice feels the sudden and unexpected lump rising in her throat at her next realisation.

She doesn't want him to leave. She doesn't want to see the back of him, see him go, as he would inevitably have to. To save more worlds, to save more friends and to battle more monsters. And he was only two years older than herself. Such thoughts made her skin crawl on this bright day (if there ever was a day or night in Wonderland, or if the Sun just shone in certain places, she wasn't particularly sure, but _that was beside the point_) in this place of wonder she didn't know why she was thinking these things.

It was him, of course. For so long she had been confused and bewildered, wandering in a haze of danger and unable to trust even the most benign of creatures. But then suddenly he'd come along (at just the right moment, of course, like all heroes do) and suddenly she had a friend, irrevocably on her side and forever her saviour, a silent promise that he would always come to her rescue. And suddenly, she was safe.

_She didn't want him to go. She didn't want him to leave her here, where nothing made sense and she had no friends and didn't know howtoescapethisPLACE…_

"Alice?"

She flinches slightly, looks down to see he has woken, turned onto his back and is currently staring up at her curiously, his head still on her lap.

"Y-Yes?" she manages.

"What are you thinking?"

Alice blinks, and can't help the eyebrow that traitorously rises in response to her confusion. "Pardon?"

"What is it about your thoughts that make you look so sad?" he rephrases carefully, in a way that makes it easier for her to understand the direction his question is going. He yawns suddenly as she exclaims a quiet 'oh!' of embarrassment and feels her cheeks burn, and then hastily mulls over how to answer his query in a way that won't make her more vulnerable than she already is.

As she thinks she silently notes how he still hasn't sat up (translation: he hasn't moved away from a position that was supposed to be for comfort as he slept, and nothing more). Meaning? She did not have a clue.

"Um," she finally mumbles. "I was just thinking how sad it all is."

She is avoiding answering, and he knows this. Still, he waits patiently, silent, trying to show her through his gaze that it is okay to tell him, of all people.

"What I mean," she elaborates slowly, after some time has quietly slid by, "is that it is sad how you, of all people, have to do something so horribly dangerous at such a tender age."

He is silent.

Alice feels herself begin to panic a little. "I mean – that is to say, I meant to say – that you – I –" _don't want you to go_. Her young voice cuts off sharply when he suddenly unburdens her legs with the weight of his skull, and then rearranges himself so that he is facing her, one hand reaching over her to bear his weight by his palm on the grass, the other hand raising up to touch her lips softly in the well-known gesture for silence, although by now Alice has long been silent, watching him.

"It'll be okay," he says gently, "I'll be okay."

_He knows_, Alice thought, horrified and yet, strangely elated by the simple fact. Still, she can't accept the silent promise.

"No," she protests, refusing to allow his proximity to affect her. "You can not promise me that, Sora. I may never seen you again, once you leave –" This time she is choked off by the tightness of her throat, the reappearance of a lump that has already begun to take affect because she talked, blurring her vision with salt water.

Sora notices how close to tears she has suddenly become, and although puzzled about the why (of course), he does what comes as naturally as breathing to him. He slips his free arm (that is to say, the arm that isn't busy bearing his weight) around her thin waist and tilts her torso towards his, as his leans forward to meet her head with his shoulder. The simple, compassionate gesture brings Alice's mixed feelings to a whole new release, and she can't help the quiet, half-stifled sobs that escape her aching chest. For the comfort (the closeness, the warmth of his body) she clings to him and tries to hold herself there, tight and together and secure in the knowledge of his safety, here with her and her Light.

Yet, Alice knows. She knows she isn't the only one of Light that holds a place in his heart. She knows there is another, more special, and yet, _yet_, she selfishly (is it, really?) wishes he, her only real friend in this unreal world, could stay with _her_. Because she is scared to lose him. Because she wants him – her friend, her hero, her love – here.

Alice has slipped on a friendship and fallen in love.

.

.

.

**Alice is **_**always**_** f a l l i n g.**


End file.
